


it’s an aching itch all through me

by iamliterallyahotpocket



Category: Lost in Translation (Webcomic)
Genre: Body Dysmorphia, Depression, Dissociation, Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified, Guilt, References to Depression, Sad, Sad Vibes, Songfic, and i just think minsung fits them, but they sure are vibes, hahahah don’t read too far into this, idk man there are just vibes here, vent - Freeform, vent fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-17
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-25 23:47:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30097011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamliterallyahotpocket/pseuds/iamliterallyahotpocket
Summary: “i’ve got all the parts i wished fori’ve got everything i needsometimes i’m above waterbut mostly i’m at sea.”
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	it’s an aching itch all through me

**Author's Note:**

> Song:
> 
> Slack Jaw - Sylvan Esso

His finger taps a slow staccato beat on his knee cap, blurry eyes gazing out of his window— the 15th floor.

They’ve got a nice dorm. After all, they’re one of the most popular boy groups in South Korea. It just makes sense for them to have a nice dorm like this, in a high-rise with gleaming silver and marble surfaces and shining grey wood floors.

He does not belong here.

Minsung does not belong in SA1NT.

He cheated his way in, after all. Stole a song from his brother— _and Minsoo really doesn’t deserve to be at such a small company... he deserves for the world to hear him sing_ — and faked his way into being a soloist.

He doesn’t know how the others haven’t noticed yet. Their leader is a fake.

Minsung sighs in defeat, turning up his music as he collapses into the pillows on his bed. In his room. It’s an upgrade from their last dorm, where he and Kyunghun and Youngjoon all shared a room.

Now they’re all alone— except for Hyunjin and Taeseok. They insisted on staying together. And now the room that’s supposed to be Taeseok’s sits empty and unused— and that should be good.

They can’t see what a pathetic excuse of an idol he is. A fucking imposter.

But nights like this— nights where the time flies by in chunks and he’s never sure how many hours have passed but he’s still staring with unfocused eyes at some blurry little dot of a car on the street below his window— nights like this are when he wishes he had someone.

It’s stupid to say he wishes for anything anymore. Minsung’s got all he could have ever wished for and more.

But he still has moments like this, where he feels too heavy and yet too light for his body and everything’s dulled— even the music blaring through his headphones at full volume.

He never had to face any of the challenges Minsoo has. He doesn’t have a troublemaker in his group, he’s under XR instead of High Class, their parents love him— god, they shouldn’t. He’s a thief and a liar.

But Minsoo looks... happy. Free.

And Minsung’s just a bird in a cage, forced to wear what the company gives him and do the song and dance they want him to.

The tapping on his knee continues.

Slow.

Rhythmic.

Hard taps on bone.

His head feels like it should be hurting. There’s a dull pressure right behind his eyes, but he doesn’t feel any pain.

He can’t really hear his music and his eyes won’t focus on whatever it is he’s trying to stare at outside.

It’s nice like this.

It’s nice to just drift.

Minsung lets his heavy eyelids slide shut for a moment. He can’t sleep.

So he opens his eyes again, gaze shakily falling on... _something_.

He feels far too weighted down, like his stomach and ribs and heart and lungs are tethering him to reality. Without them, he’d be floating away. Surely he would. He doesn’t need the extra weight, anyway. It’s just something to lose.

There’s something else pulling him down. A heavy, dark blanket in his head. It makes him blank and tired and empty and sad and exhausted and worn-out and worn down and empty and sad and sad and sad and—

Minsung takes in a shallow, shaking breath, eyes fluttering shut again.

His music isn’t loud enough.

He wishes he could just float away.


End file.
